Chapter 10
Romeo
We ate at a Mexican restaurant, and while I’ve had Mexican food before, it was nothing like what we had tonight. The restaurant was fancier, and the food was a hundred times better.
I tried ceviche for the first time. Julien said it was marinated raw fish in lime juice. It was really good, and I ate most of it while he watched me with a small smile on his face. He looked pleased. Julien’s going to spoil me if he keeps it up. And I’ll do anything to keep that smile on his face.
One thing I’ve noticed about him is how he winces every time he sits down. I know pain when I see it, even if he tries to hide it. I want to ask him about it, but I don’t feel like it’s my place or business.
Now, we’re back in our hotel suite, where Julien is sitting outside, drinking down more liquor and smoking. He’s quiet, staring out at the black water in front of us. A few stragglers are walking along the beach, but most people have gone back to wherever they’re staying.
It’s getting kind of cold and breezy, so I grab the throw blanket resting on the couch and pull it over my shoulders. Then, I step outside and sit in the chair next to him.
He hands me the bottle, and I take a sip to make him happy. I’m not used to drinking, so it doesn’t take much to get me buzzed. When I hand him the bottle back, he hands me his smoke, but I shake my head.
I feel awkward and like I need to say something, but I don’t know what to say. Julien’s not as lively as he was earlier. Maybe he’s just tired.
Without thinking about it too hard, I stand and move to my knees between his legs. I rest my head on his thigh and curl my fingers around his strong calf that feels like a rock. Julien fingers my hair, but still says nothing.
What does he want? Men always want something, especially from me. I’m not used to just sitting here without someone barking orders, pounding into me, or forcing me to choke on their cock. I feel like I’m doing something wrong, but I’m afraid to ask if I am.
“Beautiful Romeo,” he whispers, his voice tinged with more pain rather than praise. “I couldn’t have found myself a more perfect person.” I close my eyes and feel the breeze on my face and his gentle fingers through my hair. Does this make him happy? I hope so.
Julien screws the top onto the bottle and sets it down next to him. He eases me off him and stands. I get up and sit back in the chair.
“It’s been a fucking rough couple of days. I need a shower, though nothing will wash him off me. There’s only one way to fix that.”
I have no idea what he’s talking about, but it’s clear something’s shifted in him. His mood is more morose, when before he’d been excited and full of smiles. God, I hate being fucking clueless about what to do or say, if anything. Maybe he doesn’t need me to do shit.
I stare at his back as he leaves the balcony and heads inside.
He removes his shirt, exposing rippling muscles that make my breath catch.
I have none of those. Those muscles are also covered in bruises.
I know, deep in my core, that we share a similar pain.
Someone tried to make us smaller and weaker, to cower and submit.
Those are the bruises of someone who hates my Julien.
He doesn’t get completely naked, but goes into the bathroom and shuts the door behind him instead.
With a thick swallow, I stand, determined to do something for him. Maybe he’ll let me suck him off in the shower.
I walk inside, close the glass doors behind me, and drop the blanket back onto the couch. I step up to the bathroom door and press my ear to it. The shower’s running, but there’s another sound, though I’m not sure what it is. Crying? It’s hard to tell.
My palm rests on the door as I debate knocking. I think I hear another sob. My instincts tell me that’s what I’m hearing, so I head to the bedroom, strip out of Julien’s clothes, and return to the bathroom.
I twist the doorknob to see if it’s locked, but it’s not. It turns freely. Did Julien leave it unlocked for me? Was I supposed to follow him? Did he forget?
I push the door open, and I’m hit with steam and the scent of some woodsy soap.
The bathroom is huge, with a large tub, but there’s a separate shower.
That’s where I find him, behind fogged-up glass.
His blurry form is leaning forward, resting his head and arm on the tiles while the water washes over his back.
With a deep breath and fisted hands, I find my determination to please him. It’s what I was hired to do, dammit. He’s spent way more money than I’ve provided in services.
I reach the shower stall door and crack it open. But it’s not Julien looking back at me that I’m focused on, but his ass. I’d expected it to be smooth, with tan lines and muscles, but all I see are the red marks, some crusted over with blood.
My eyes instantly water as I glance at his underwear on the floor. They’re light blue, so you can see the blood on them. Has he been bleeding this entire time? Fuck, no wonder he’s been wincing in pain.
“Go away, Romeo.” His words are gentle but forceful.
For the first time in my life, I want to ignore my orders. He hired me not only for sex but for companionship. He was also so nice to me when I got upset earlier today. What kind of person would I be if I ignored his pain?
“No,” I say and step into the shower with him. I’m hit by hot spray that feels good on my chilled skin.
Julien tries to turn to face me and hide his ass, but I don’t let him by pressing a hand on his back.
Strangely, he doesn’t fight me as his head rests on the tiles again.
My fingers trail along each lashing, feeling the crusty wounds.
Each one drags out my own pain and suffering—all the years of fucking abuse.
Right then, I realize that even if you come from money, you’re not immune to aggression.
There always seems to be someone who wants to fucking hurt you.
My tears spill, but I don’t wash them away or hide them. His pain is mine. His wounds are mine. It’s at that moment that I know why Julien hired me. Yes, he told me, but seeing his wounds firsthand, I now believe him.
My fingers continue their exploration, seeing all the scars on his back. I hadn’t noticed them before. They’re pale and faint—old scars. Most of them are on his ass, fresh wounds covering old wounds.
“I’m so sorry, Sugar,” I whisper, which sounds like a growl in my ears. “No one should ever fucking hurt you like this.”
Julien stands straight, turns to face me, and gathers me into his arms. His wet body is hot and hard. He rests his face against my neck as I hold him back.
“No one cares,” he says.
“I do. I fucking care.” Julien nods on my shoulder, pulling me tighter against him. “What happened?”
“Not here. I’ll tell you when we get out.”
Honestly, I thought he’d fight me on that, but I’m grateful he plans to open up.
It’s clear he needs someone on his side who knows what he’s going through.
I know what it’s like to have someone control you and hurt you.
I know how hard it is to fight back because sometimes the alternative is worse.
But Julien has given me a precious gift—the gift of escape.
I place my hands on his shoulders and ease him back.
He keeps his head down, water dripping from his hair.
I tuck my fingers under his chin as he’s done to me countless times already, and I force him to look at me.
Once again, he doesn’t fight me. His dark eyes are red from crying, but you can’t tell where the tears begin and the water ends.
I lean my face forward and capture his lips in mine. It’s only a peck.
Julien chuckles, but there’s no humor in it. “Well, I told myself I wanted to feel shit. Anything. I’ve been so fucking dead inside for so long.”
“You can feel whatever you want. You’re safe with me.”
“I know.”
I grab the washcloth and body wash that the hotel provides.
I squirt some of the liquid onto the cloth and bathe him, starting with his chest. He’s pretty hairless, like me, but he’s got a few dark hairs sprinkled around the center, nestled between his pecs.
After washing his stomach and arms, I gently turn him around and wash his back.
Eventually, I move down to his ass because it needs to be cleaned.
“We should’ve bought some salve at the store,” I say. “Had I known…”
“I have some in my backpack.”
“Okay.”
Once I have him clean, I quickly wash off my body, too. God, it feels good. I always feel gross after men touch me, and I hadn’t been able to shower after Tito fucked me this morning. The hot water and soap have breathed new life into my skin and soul.
When I reach for the shampoo to wash his hair, he turns and grabs my wrist. “No, thanks. I only wash it once a week when I’m not working out, since I have thick curls. All my years of swimming have dried it out.”
He turns off the water, and I’m the first to step out of the shower, grabbing a towel. I dry Julien off first, careful around his wounded areas.
“Are you okay?” I ask. “Am I hurting you?”
“No, you’re… really gentle.”
“I can’t believe you’ve been walking around like this, bleeding, Julien.”
“I’ve had it worse.”
“That’s not the point, and you know it.” I try not to sound agitated because it’s not his fault, but I wish he hadn’t suffered like this today. I wish we could’ve at least treated the wounds before we did anything.
After I dry off, he holds me again. “I know it’s not.
I don’t know. I’m just… used to pretending I’m not fucked up inside, mostly because no one gives a fuck.
I’m always wearing a mask of confidence.
My ex-girlfriend knew about them, but she never cared all that much.
She never took care of me the way you just did. ”
“I feel like that’s the bare minimum.”